Humbleness

"John wore clothing made of camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey." Mark 1:6
Humbleness speaks more through action than words. John the Baptist is a prime example.

Action Takes Action

"active habits are strengthened by repetition but passive ones are weakened. The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able to ever to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel." -CS Lewis, The Screwtape Letters


This summarises the beauty of life. It's applications are limitless. Truth lyes in the most apparent places, though finding that truth must be found by the observant heart, not the observant mind. Man forgets this too often, and thus does not act. His soul becomes passive, and all feeling lost for his fellow man. There's hope, though. Truth can be found, but the soul must be active for it to be found.

Caprock Canyons

This is where the buffalo used to roam...and Indians...and outlaws...and you can still feel their souls.

Ode to D. Thomas

Gutter: a place of fallen solitude in the darkest hour
A drink or two, or three, or enough to get through ‘til morning
Irish Coffee to forget that friends fuss over drinks and poems. Who’s kiddin’ who as the
A march that ended with Sousa choking on his vomit from the gin and tonic played on from a record player in the 6th Ave. apartment.
Sunrise will rise and the wordsmith will forget that his feelings matter no more to her than a moon that has sunk in the sky too soon on a morning made to ruin drowning souls.
Waddle through the door, trip on the cobblestones. Poets die too young of broken hearts and broken glasses in a Greenwich Village Bar.
The white horse came riding that night after he drank a drink of marathon drinks. He was going for the record. A competitor of words and the muse behind those words. A scotch brewed in Wales by a woman that he caroused in a horse carrol on his mother’s family farm.
Scent of death lingered in the air. Words that perpetuated the lips of a dying man’s conundrum. Drink more to write more. Drink and be merry. Drink to live. Drink to die.
Drank to remember the memories he once lived. Drunk to forget the lives in his memory.

Solitude v. Loneliness

There exists in every person's life a place and time when they realise the difference between solitude and loneliness.
It is a tradition that is purely human. It is a tradition in many cultures, throughout the history of man, that leads to man being spiritually aware of God.
The interesting notion of this spiritual recognition may be coined with different words and slightly different ideas in different cultures at different times, but the underlying component is the same. Man must realise that he is not a simple wandering body on earth, but a soul created to Love and be Loved. God's plan for this is sometimes unexpected and at other time uncomprehensible, but the plan is always occuring and has always occured. There had always been evidence of it and always will be evidence of God touching souls. Man, when God wants him to take notice, will take notice of this evidence.

Solitude fosters growth of the spirit, and loneliness will eat away at the spirit, which could eventually lead to man's insanity, or separation from God.

This is not an unfamiliar task to ancient Indian tribes of this continent. When a boy was deemed ready to become a man by the tribe, the shaman would prescribe a 3-5 day vision quest. The boy was sent into the wilderness by himself with no food and water and herbal hallucinogens to enhance the quest of the boy. They say the first night is the toughest because the difference between solitude and loneliness must be recognized by the boy. When he endures this painstaking realisation that he is not lonely but one with God, (though Indian culture perceives this as different than the Christian view point) he recognises his spiritual self for the first time. He recognises that God is teaching him. God is there and he is not alone. He is in a state of solitude.

I recently took a two day solo camping trip out where tribes used to roam, and where vision quests occurred like the ones described. God touched me in a way I have never felt. God taught me the importance of Love and being Loved. I was ready to listen and learn when I was in solitude.

Life is Free

Sometimes, people admire the wrong things.
Today, I took the time to admire the glory of God's beauty.
It cost me nothing. It was free.
Can you believe? Will you please believe me?

Guidance

Decisions are difficult to decide without guidance. The morning alarm sounds and the decision must be made whether to wake or stay under the comfort of the blanket for a few more moments. The alarm sounds again after you decided the first time to stay in the warmth of the bed. Another decision must be made, and this time the feet are reluctant to touch the floor because they fear the cold wood that they are about to touch. After making the decision to finally awaken, one must decide on the wardrobe to wear today. What should be eaten for breakast? A shave, today? Is there time to make the bed? What will the wife say? What meetings are going on today at work?

Sometimes decisions control people until they are made. Though people do ultimately indeed make their own decisions, they do not decide without guidance. Some seek their guidance through siblings, friends, mothers, fathers, children, couselors, teachers, preachers, ministers, bible study members, psychiatrists, customers, bosses, neighbors, grandmothers, grandfathers, uncles, aunts, psychiatrists, and physicians. But, where does all the sharing and Love of one another to help decide exist? In God through prayer.

Death and Regret

Some ask me how I live my life? For anybody who really knows me, they all know I take it in stride. In truth, I wish I had the energy to take it like a fireball. But, that's just not me. Don't get me wrong, I have my fireball moments. And, well, everybody else has their fireball moments too.

Sometimes when I start really looking at my dreams and what I want out of life, I realize that everyday I get older. And, everyday we get older, we are either one step closer to our dreams or one step further away. Depending on what direction you are actually going to catch that dream, that dream is either far away, or within reach.

Let's get to my point. My point is this...Imagine yourself on your deathbed (much like a dream I had not to long ago) and tell me how you feel.

To me, I don't think people regret the things they did in life. They always regret those things they never did.

Don't regret the things that you always wanted to do, but just were to busy to do. I'll tell you this...When I'm on my death bed, I know I won't regret anything, because I want to do it all, baby. And, I'll die tryin' to do it all.

The Valley

Take me up to your highest mountain
In the heavens where everything’s clear
Oh, take me down to your peaceful valley
Down, where there’s music to my ears

Oh, I’ve walked for 7 long days
And, I don’t want to walk for 7 more
Cause I’ve come down from the top of a mountain
It seems like for ever since I’ve been here.

The cold mountain breeze shivers the trees
Smelling the sweet smell of cedar and pine
Oh, take me back to a time in that valley
Where the strings echo on down that line

Oh, I’ve worked for 30 some odd years
And, I don’t want to work my hands no more.
Oh, let me settle down in this here valley
I finally feel at ease down here

My sisters and brothers, when they do find me
I’ll be resting under a weathered pine tree
With my eyes looking at the heavens above
The music of the mountains will keep playing on.

And, I’ve traveled for an entire life
And, I don’t want to travel no more
Cause I’ve come down from the top of a mountain
And, I’ve made my home here

Little Things

Note: I would like to say that the following reflection is nothing more than my brief thoughts on the purpose of educating our youth. The lack of understanding by legislatures who have never stepped inside a school as in the one I teach, has caused many people to lose faith in the public education system. The following explains why I teach, and well, why most don’t.

As a teacher and coach, I sometimes wonder if the education business is my true calling.
After tonight I realized that although it may not be my true calling, I do serve a purpose. Sometimes in ways I had never imagined possible.

After my quad-weekly workout at the Lewisville YMCA, I stepped into the small gym to play basketball. I had taken about two shots, when I see these two little boys (Fourth graders. I found out from them later.) yell to me, “We want to challenge you to a game.”
I said, “What? You two? Against me? Okay. Let’s go.”

Now these two kids were about 4 foot nothing and looked like they were brothers.
These kids had confidence in their talk, but I could see in their eyes a rough life. I glanced over their clothes which were not much more than rags, and realized that these were just younger versions of the same kids I teach and coach every day.
Their mother watched on from the bleachers down the way. No father around, which is typical in the community I teach.

I kept the game close on purpose. I made it tough for them, but taught them the whole time while we played. I don’t think the kids realized I was teaching them when we were playing. I kept telling them that they had to stay tough to win. It was 9-9, and then they scored the winning basket. They were overjoyed and told them I needed to go home. They shook my hand and I asked them where they went to elementary school.
I had felt a connection with these kids the whole time I played.
They simply said, “Creekside.” This is one of the elementary schools that feed into my middle school.
I told them, “I’ll see you in two years.” They looked at me quizzical.
“I’m a coach at Durham Middle School.”
They both looked up at me a smiled the biggest grin I have seen from a kid in a long time. I smiled one of the biggest grins back at them, and on the way out, yelled,
“See ya in two years!” and held up the number 2 symbol with my fingers, or the peace sign.
As I was headed out the door, I heard the kids yelling back to me,
“See ya in two years!” There was hope in their voices.
That is the reason I coach. This is the reason I teach.

LA

After leaving the Barnes and Nobles in Hunting Beach, CA, we finally made contact with Shad’s friend. Blaine was her name, if I remember correctly. We had pulled into the parking lot of an Albertson’s grocery store parking lot, when we received the call from Blaine. According to Blaine, she, her boyfriend, and a group of friends were at a restaurant 25 minutes away from our current location.

Now, for some reason we were under the impression that we were going to meet them in a neutral place and head back to the house where we were going to stay for the next couple of days. The California Kids had something else in store that us laid back Texans weren’t quite ready for.

It was now around midnight, and we had driven a long drive through sand dunes, Tijuana, San Diego, and Del Mar Beach. I was ready for sleep. My counterpart, too, appeared ready to get some shut-eye. But, instead we were driving 25 minutes out of are way to meet the California Kids at a restaurant with its own microbrewery. Trendy, I must say, like the rest of LA.

We pulled into the restaurant and exhausted, meet the friends of Blaine, who we would be spending the next couple of days with. Her boyfriend immediately made it known to us, that he was indeed her boyfriend and that we were not.

Let me tell you about Blaine. I did not really know Blaine as well as Shad, but she was a very attractive girl with a bubbly personality. She had moved to California from Texas a couple of years before our visit and I guess was going after the California dream. Whatever that happens to be. I’ve always believed in the notion that if you can’t accomplish something in your hometown or home state, you can’t accomplish it anywhere else.

Any guy would have wanted her, which explains the boyfriend’s overprotective and possessive nature. I didn’t have any desire to be with her, but I have a different taste in women than most guys I know. I try to find the ones I know will age well.

Anyway, we finally convince the hard nosed Californians that were tired and ready to put up our feet for the night.

We are on our way, heading out of the restaurant, when the beer supply list is made. It appears that we are moving the party back to the living room where we were going to sleep for the night.

We drive the Desert Gem following the boyfriend, and then after 25 minutes, we turn down a street next to the Albertson’s we were just at earlier in the night. The boyfriend’s house is a couple of blocks away from the Albertson’s. We made a circle of 50 minutes driving time on a trip where we had already driven 25 hours in the past 2 days.

We get comfortable, the bongs are pulled out, the beers are open, and the party begins and lasts for all of about 2 hours.
We finally crash on the couch after picking guitars for about an hour, and we awaken the next morning to a pot head’s bong cough. You know the type, right after someone gets it deep down in the lungs, they can’t help but cough.

Instead of a cup of joe to start their day, Californians prefer hitting a bowl.
Well, at least these Californian roommates.

We head out the door about an hour of talking with the roommates and we start driving to our destination Venice Beach.

Now, for anyone who has never experienced Venice Beach, it is just like the beginning of the Lost Boys. The only difference, we were experiencing the Fort Worth Main Streets Arts Festival on massive amounts of steroids, during the day. After seeing some sidewalk acts and various art works aligning the street, we start walking on the beach.
Admiring the ocean, we notice the Santa Monica Pier with amusement park and all. We start walking towards it.

After walking along the beach for quite some time, we finally come to the famed Santa Monica Pier. It looked closer to us on the beach than it actually was, but we needed the exercise after developing trucker cramps from hours of driving.

Muscle beach proved to be unused at the moment, but the most impressive of the entire trip was us stumbling along a 20 member drum circle in the middle of the sand on the beach. We sat down and meditated on the sweet melody of rhythms, until the teenage girls sitting across from us pulled out their pipe and started smoking it up.

Apparently, everyone in California smokes pot. After experiencing the hectic morning commute to Venice Beach, I could see why.

We piled back into the Desert Gem and headed up the 101, through Malibu to see Pepperdine University. One of the most gorgeous and expensive universities in the states that overlooks the Pacific Ocean; we toured the grounds and decided to head to Hollywood.